


By Your Flame

by 264feet



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Bonus monokuma theatre, Character Study, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Locked In, Mid-Canon, Missing Scene, Past Character Death, Post-Chapter 4, Syo being Syo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/264feet/pseuds/264feet
Summary: Byakuya Togami and Genocider Syo get locked in the cafeteria together overnight. Byakuya begins to understand Syo not as a force of nature, but as a person.





	By Your Flame

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy this Genocider Syo character study/relationship study fic that got way out of hand + a side of food and trauma.

If someone were to ask Makoto why he was spending time with a serial killer, he would say something about believing in everyone. And that was true-- but the answer he didn’t want to admit was that his options were limited while locked up in this school. Kyouko made herself scarce looking for clues, and Byakuya had been avoiding everyone as usual, and he wasn’t in the mood to stomach Yasuhiro’s unusual predictions. **  
**

Besides, in an environment in which anyone could become a murderer, some odd comfort existed in someone who at least admitted to being one. Sakura’s last words still echoed in his mind, about love and togetherness, but Monokuma always had another plan up his sleeve.

Regardless of how broken Makoto was after a class trial, or how exhausted he was after having another breakdown when trying to take a simple shower, Syo always greeted him with the same sanguine snickering and cheerful chatter. Maybe he was tempting fate, but she had said more than once that he wasn’t her type- something which was a relief, but also oddly stung- and was only interested in Byakuya.

Her answer changed daily when he asked why. Touko usually spat a soliloquy about his pristine eyelashes or the diameter of his wrists, but Syo would make a sex joke or scream that nobody else would understand or both at once. Sometimes, in an attempt to connect, Makoto would praise Byakuya’s intelligence (even if he had just used it to derail a trial) or his confidence (even if he just used it to announce the others were worthless), and Syo would just look on blankly.

“You tryin’ to steal him away from me?” Syo said each time, her tongue lolling to the side like a snake looking for an opening. “Oohoohoo, what’s this boy-on-boy development? Huh? Huh?”

“No!” Makoto repeatedly insisted. “I just want to get to know you better, that’s all.”

Each time, Syo reacted as if he were speaking every word backwards-- as if she could almost understand, but only if she entirely changed her way of thinking. Instead, she would just laugh.

One time, when Makoto asked again why she liked Byakuya, Syo said something he didn’t expect.

“Cause I feel like someone with him,” she said. Even if she were in the middle of sharpening her scissors, she suddenly seemed vulnerable. To counter this, she added: “if you ask me that fuckin’ question one more time I’m gonna chop an inch of your dick off.” A look crossed her face. “But wouldn’t that leave you with zero…?” And a howling laugh.

Makoto just ignored that last bit as he took in her words. Syo had already said that she didn’t want to kill Byakuya, but also that she killed every other man she liked. He might have some way of understanding of she had a clear reason for killing, but she didn’t. To her, it was as if Makoto were asking a fire why it burned.

(And maybe the only people who truly understood, Makoto thought, would wind up with the reason being the last thing crossing their minds before oblivion took them.)

“The urge, man… the urge…” Syo snickered, gnashing her teeth. “It’s getting to me…” She finished sharpening a pair of scissors and looked at her reflection in the polished metal. Satisfied, she smiled like a shark emerging from the ocean’s depths . “I gotta DO it soon, or else I’m gonna snappity snap snap!”

He flinched. The only thing keeping Syo from killing Byakuya was a fantasy of true love and the promise of near-immediate execution. Her modus operandi was too distinct for them to not know. But how long could the class keep a wildfire contained based on a promise in smoke signals? It passed his mind that she might get the idea of going down in a Romeo & Juliet scenario. He couldn’t lose more friends, even if the word ‘friends’ was tenuous in their case.

“What if I could help you get your feelings across to Togami-kun?” he attempted, and gasped as she suddenly pressed her scissors to his throat.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep!” Syo said, her face twisted in manic glee. “You’re gonna rile me up a-and I’m gonna lose it!”

“I- I mean it!” Makoto whimpered. “I could find a time for you to talk to him! I-if you just tell him what you told me just now, I’m sure you’ll understand.”

Syo raised an eyebrow. “... About the urge?”

“No, before that?”

“About… you having a one-inch--”

“No!” Makoto said. “About feeling like a person around him!”

Syo’s eyes widened as if hearing this for the first time. Just as quickly, her eyes narrowed into slivers of red. “You… you tricked me to make me say that! And you’re gonna trick me again! You’re gonna get in between me and my love so you can snatch him away in your little uke hands!”

“That’s not true!” Makoto said. Uke? He continued, regardless: “I really want to help you both.”

He swallowed gulps of fresh air once the scissors were removed. Syo seemed to be studying him like a predator looking for a weak spot, but finally holstered the scissors and snarled. “This better be good.”

“O-of course it will be!” Makoto lied. “I’ll start making a plan, and in a few days--”

“A few what?”

“A few… days--”

“Days?” Syo began. “Days? DAYS?! DAYS!” With every word, she drew another pair of scissors and snipped wildly at the air, her brows furrowing so fiercely that her skin threatened to tear. “D’you know what time is in here, Makrimony?! In a ‘FEW DAYS’, some little yaoi boy like you could lay a finger on my precious master! In a ‘FEW DAYS’, I’m gonna freakin’ explode from being so blueballed!”

Makoto waved his hands. “I’m sorry, I just--”

“A FEW DAYS!” Syo screeched. “No no no no no NO NO, Makintosh. Me and Byakuya-sama are doing this… tonight!” Her own wordplay excited her, shifting her screeching from furious to excited.

From muscle memory, Makoto looked where the clock would be in the classroom. He estimated that it was around 8 PM. There was still time to get this over with before Night Time began. “Okay, I’m sorry! It’ll be tonight!”

“You know what a girl wants to hear, Mako Mori! Probably for the first time in your life… Kyahahaha!” She clenched her sides, lost in her own humor; a moment later, her razor-sharp reflexes had another pair of scissors at his throat. “C’mon, let’s move NOW for fuck’s sake! Why are you dawdling?!”

As if being held hostage, Makoto led them both down to the school cafeteria, reminding himself periodically that this was his idea.

\---

There had to be an excuse to stay. Byakuya hadn’t been attending the breakfast meeting, and none of them could remember cooking for him. Makoto wasn’t sure he’d been eating at all. He could invite him under the pretense of a nice dinner.

Of course, someone who had repeatedly claimed to want to become a Blackened would immediately suspect poison, even if he had ‘withdrawn from the killing game’-- but it was the only plan that Makoto could concoct with a serial killer threatening to puncture his throat. It was his best shot.

Syo let the scissors go once they reached the kitchen- “if I spend too much time up close with you, I might start developing a thing for twinks”- and he was free to move around. Makoto began by taking stock of the pantry. Their selection of pre-made foods was limited, almost as if the Mastermind was having trouble getting a steady supply. Fortunately, the fresh produce and meat was abundant. With a sigh of relief, he found a box of curry mix. It might not appeal to Byakuya’s refined palette, but Makoto wasn’t exactly a chef. He just helped his family in the kitchen sometimes.

As Makoto selected fresh potatoes and carrots, he wondered idly if Byakuya could cook. A Togami must hire the best chefs in the world to prepare their daily meals, right? He probably saw cooking as an act which was below him.

With the limited supply of prepared foods, Makoto wondered if Byakuya eaten at all lately. Byakuya would have to swallow his pride and request another student cook for him, and said student would have to agree, and then Byakuya would have to trust that the dish wasn’t tampered with and eat it, should it meet all his palette needs. All of these things were unlikely. Makoto peeled some extra vegetables and decided on miso soup as a side dish, suddenly feeling as if he were on a mission.

Makoto added some garlic to a pot with olive oil and realized he forgot to dice the meat. He selected what he thought was a decent cut of beef and reached for a kitchen knife--

His feet fell through the floor into a deep ocean. An undertow pulled him deeper, deeper, and salt water poured into his lungs when he tried to scream. His body locked in place and he couldn’t thrash to try and save himself; he could only tremble and watch his pupils shrink in the knife’s metal.

The shower had been scrubbed.

His room had been repaired.

The body had been removed.

The knife set was pristine, full, complete.

Monokuma had put Sayaka’s knife back.

Makoto stumbled backwards and his only indication that he’d dropped the steak on the ground was Syo yelling at him. He doubled over and gasped as if he’d been dragged to shore. When he settled down, he saw that Syo had rinsed the cut of meat and was studying him. Someone made to harm seemed to have no idea how to heal.

Instead, a return to normalcy. “This ain’t the first time you disappointed a girl with your meat, huh? Kyahahahaha!”

Her brow furrowed as he didn’t respond-- not as if he ignored her intentionally; rather, as if he barely processed the comment at all. He gripped a kitchen knife- not the knife- in trembling fingers and Syo stilled his hand. “Woah woah woah, Eager Mako-beaver! You think I’m just gonna letcha screw up food for MY Byakuya-sama?! I’m helpin’ whether you like it or not!”

She laughed again, as if this were a joke. Makoto was too tired to argue. There was something grotesque about Syo using scissors which had probably punctured human flesh to cut meat into cubes, but all he focused on was getting the rice into a pot with some water. Syo added the beef to the pot sizzling with garlic and oil, and soon a pleasant aroma was wafting from the kitchen.

“Do you… cook?” Makoto asked, lamely. Somehow, the idea of a serial killer stopping to make a pleasant meal in order to fill up for a long day of murder was even more strange to him than Byakuya cooking.

Syo took surprising care in washing the juices off her scissors. As she dried them with a cloth, she glanced at Makoto. “Well, duh, dum-dum! Me n’ Gloomy gotta eat eventually, and it ain’t like mom and mom and pops had a five-course meal waiting for us when we got home!”

Makoto frowned. “Did you say ‘mom’ twice?”

“What else do I call the second mom? Mama? Slagathor? Dumb bitch who ruined everything?”

“‘Dumb… who ruined everything?’” Makoto repeated in confusion.

“Eh, I’m partial to Slagathor, myself,” Syo said.

“No, I mean…” Makoto began, sighing in frustration. Feeling a little better, he stood and began dicing the potatoes.

Syo took the carrots. “If you wanna know more, go bug Gloomy about it.” She suddenly seemed apprehensive, not even a hint of a smile on her face. “They ain’t my problem problem. I guess I owe them something, anyway.”

“How so?”

She shrugged. “Circle of life. They crapped out Gloomy into the world ‘cause they loved each other, and then since they hated each other, I got here too. Beautiful, huh?”

The two of them tossed the vegetables into the pot with the browned meat. Makoto stirred with a wooden spoon. A thought passed his mind-- the nature of fire was to destroy, but when handled properly, it could be used for warmth, for cooking, to sustain life.

“Because… they hated each other, you were born?” Makoto asked.

“Probably. I dunno,” Syo said. “Maybe I was here first and Gloomy stole the spotlight, huh? Maybe the other personality is the good one and the first one’s the prototype, huh?”

One time, Syo said that her creation was just a coincidence. Now, Makoto wasn’t so sure that was true. Either way, Syo seemed uncharacteristically reserved and he was afraid of stirring the pot too much-- so to speak.

The miso soup was a little more robust; he poured the ready-made soup into a third pot and let it warm up. Makoto added water and honey to the pot with the meat and vegetables. There were measuring tools, but he didn’t remember the specifications; he just eyeballed it and stopped when it smelled good.

Back when he and Komaru had cooked this dish to surprise their parents, they had a contest to see who could pour the honey from the highest height, and they both fell to the ground when Komaru stood on his shoulders in an attempt to pour it.

The thought began dragging him back down into the depths. He slammed a lid on the pot and on his mind, placing it on a simmer, leaning against a wall and waiting. Soon enough, the aroma drew Aoi into the kitchen, who seemed to be following her nose. Her eyes widened upon seeing Syo. Regardless, she attempted a smile. “Hey, guys! Whatcha making?”

“What’s this? Are you a dairy supplier, here to add overstocked milk to our dish?” Syo said. She cackled as Aoi crossed her arms over her chest.

“I wanted to get some donuts before bed and smelled something yummy,” Aoi muttered. She eyed Makoto suspiciously. “Are you two… cooking together?”

“I-it’s not what you think,” Makoto said, without any idea of what Aoi could possibly be thinking. “It’s for Togami-kun.”

That only made her more confused. “Huh? Why are you guys cooking for him?”

“Ararara? Why wouldn’t we be cooking for Byakuya-sama?” Syo asked. “Speaking of my Byakuya-sama, it’s been far too long since I laid eyes upon him… his silky skin, his lithe frame...”

Makoto pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t leave the cooking unattended, but making Syo find Byakuya by herself sounded dangerous. “Aoi, could you possibly find Byakuya and invite him to the cafeteria? Let him know that I--” He stressed I, with the silent message ‘don’t mention Syo’, “-- made him dinner.”

She pouted. “Find him? You want me to go to stuck-up jerk HQ?”

“I’ll give you a to-go bowl if you d--”

“Done,” Aoi said, but she didn’t seem happy about it.

As she began walking out, Syo shouted after her, “Don’t you DARE lay a finger on my Byakuya-sama! I’ve memorized the position of every hair on his head and I’ll know if you touched him!”

Aoi shot a glance over her shoulder that said, I would only touch him to knock those glasses off his face, but fortunately restrained herself. With the promise of food, she left in hunt of Byakuya.

“Some hussy after my Byakuya-sama…” Syo withdrew a pair of scissors, having half a mind to give chase.

“D-don’t worry,” Makoto said. “Soon enough, he’ll be yours, right?”

Something terrible crossed Syo’s face. It looked like a carving one would make into a jack-o-lantern as an excuse for a smile. Her eyes glazed over with lust, her tongue dripping drool onto the ground. “Mine… all mine…”

Makoto again remembered how awful of an idea this was. He busied himself with checking the food in order to quiet the guilt in his mind. The vegetables had softened nicely, so he finally added the curry sauce blocks to the mix. Once they broke down and united the mix of ingredients, he tried a sample of it.

He licked his lips. Not bad. Maybe it could have been improved if he chopped up some onions or gave it some type of fruit zest. Both were something that his mother would have done. He shook off the pang of guilt and wrapped up a to-go bowl of curry rice for Aoi, along with a little cup of miso soup. “Could you please set the table?”

“Roger that, Memekoto!” She gave a salute before scampering off. Makoto wasn’t sure what he was expecting- maybe the word ‘bloodlust’ written in ketchup, or scissors replacing all silverware- but one of the cafeteria tables was actually set nicely when he brought out the food. She even somehow found placemats and a candle.

As if on cue, Aoi returned with Byakuya in tow. The heir had all the cheer of a cat that was dunked into an ice bath. He considered everything in the cafeteria under his sharp glare. “What a surprise. Here I was thinking this was a big waste of my time.”

Makoto attempted a smile. “It’s not that bad. I made you--”

“It’s a colossal waste of my time,” Byakuya interrupted. “At worst, this is a sloppy attempt at poisoning me. At best, this is a miserable attempt to cajole me into eating peasant food. Why set the table if the fare you cooked- and I use that word generously- smells like it might as well be licked off the street by a stray mutt?”

“Oh, shut up!” Aoi snapped. “It’s good food and they worked hard on it! Do you want to go back to the library and sit around reading How To Be A Fathead 101, or do you want to actually eat something?”

“Fathead?” Byakuya asked, taken aback.

“Byakuya-sama… ah… Byakuya-sama’s harsh words--” Syo shuddered, hugging herself and squealing. “It is slop… dirty bitch like me might as well eat it out of a dog bowl by Byakuya-sama’s feet…”

“This isn’t helping,” Byakuya said.

Makoto stood between all of them, holding his hands out. “Look, it’s not poisoning or an insult to you or anything! I just wanted you to have a nice meal.”

Byakuya arched a brow. “And?”

“And what?” Makoto asked.

“Listen well. There is no fairy tale greater than altruism. Everyone has an ulterior motive for even the most basic of actions. If you wanted to just prepare a dish for my sake, then why is she here?”

He couldn’t deny that. “I just thought… uh, you and Syo here haven’t been getting along the best, so I thought…”

“Did you? Did you actually think?” Byakuya hissed.

For a moment, everything seemed to be falling to pieces. Makoto could almost feel Syo’s scissors tearing him apart in revenge for this failed plan. But then, Byakuya’s stomach growled.

In a hurry to avoid anyone’s mocking comments- specifically, Aoi’s- Byakuya stepped into the cafeteria and seated himself. He tucked a cloth napkin into his collar, still glaring. “Get over here, Naegi. I’ll only subject myself to your slop if you agree to be my official taste-tester.”

“I already tasted it. I think it’s pretty good,” Makoto said.

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “Of course you did. Was that before or after you added arsenic? Please, for my sanity, say ‘after’.”

Syo looked at Byakuya’s feet as if genuinely considering seating herself on the floor like a dog, but finally sat at the table across from Byakuya. Makoto nodded at Aoi, who shot him a thumbs-up before grabbing her to-go bowl and leaving. Then, he took a spoon and sampled a bite from each of their dishes. He waited a moment to prove that he hadn’t been poisoned. “There. How’s that?”

Byakuya’s suspicious glare scrutinized Makoto for several moments longer before he sighed. “Very well. With any luck, the only poisoning I’ll receive will be from revulsion alone rather than from an assassination attempt.” He turned the glare to Syo. “Although it remains to be seen whether the most revolting part of the meal should be the content itself or the company.”

“Bon appétit to you, too,” Makoto said, exhausted. His job here was done. He would give them privacy and just pray for the best. He rinsed off his hands, stretched, and strolled out of the cafeteria just as the steel shutters slammed closed over the entrance.

Bing bong, bing bong!

“Ahem… attention!” began Monokuma’s awful voice over the school PR system. “It is now 10 PM! As such, it is now officially Night Time!”

The rest of the announcement was drowned out by Makoto slamming his fists on the doors-- not that it mattered, he had heard that damned recording dozens of times by now. No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening! There still had to be an hour or two before Night Time began! He reached down and tried to pry the steel shutters open; they didn’t so much as budge. He grunted and braced himself and tried harder and harder until his fingers threatened to snap. Finally, he collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath.

If only Sakura were still here, he thought.

“What happened?! Are you okay?” Aoi said, running over. She must have heard the commotion. “Where are Togami-kun and Fuka-- Syo?”

With an aching finger, he pointed at the steel shutters. Aoi gasped and started slamming her fists on it. “Hello?! Can you guys hear us?! Are you okay?”

No response. The cafeteria was at least insulated, if not soundproof-- maybe so the Mastermind could move around in there without worry. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. All he knew was that this was his fault.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” Yasuhiro said, stumbling up. “Too late for a donut run, yeah?”

“It’s not that!” Aoi said. “Genocider Syo and Togami-kun are locked in there!”

“What?!” Yasuhiro gasped. He put his hands together in prayer. “Man… oh man… I better start preparing funeral rites, yeah? Togami-chi’s got no chance with her there all night…”

“It’s not even that,” Makoto croaked, his throat suddenly parched. “That area’s off-limits at night. They’re… they’re breaking school rules. They might not be answering because--”

Aoi’s face paled. Yasuhiro had his eyes closed in concentration. Monokuma was observing his claws.

Makoto yelped as he noticed Monokuma’s sudden appearance. “Y-you! Are you here to tell us--?”

“Huh? Tell you what? That this is all your fault?” Monokuma said. “You already knew that, didn’tcha? In case you forgot, here it is again: this is all your fault! 100%, A+, totally your-fault!”

“Shut up already! He didn’t know because YOU removed all the clocks from this stupid building!” Aoi snapped. “More importantly, what happened to them? Are you gonna punish them?”

Monokuma scratched his chin. “Hm… great question! I could easily bring out the gatling guns and splat their brains right into that curry you made! It wouldn’t be more gross than all the germs you got by dropping that steak on the floor,” he said, pretending to retch.

His face heated up in anger. Makoto already knew in the back of his mind that Monokuma was watching their every move, but having it tossed in his face didn’t help.

“Buuuuuuut………….” Monokuma held his pause for far longer than dramatically necessary. “Technically, they didn’t enter after Night Time began-- they just got trapped in there! So I’ll let it slide this time! But this time only, you hear me?” He held out his claws.

The students all breathed a sigh of relief. “Still… trapped in there all night with Genocider Syo…” Yasuhiro muttered.

“Punishment in and of itself!” Monokuma said. “Great job, Naegi! Say, are you gunning for my job or something? Ahahahaha!”

Makoto clenched his teeth, afraid of what he might say if he opened his mouth. Growing bored without incoming insults, Monokuma shrugged. “By the way… the other rule about Night Time still applies! Rule #3: Sleeping anywhere other than the dormitory will be seen as sleeping in class and punished accordingly!” Monokuma said. “I’ll be keeping a very close eye on them tonight! What will you see when those doors open tomorrow morning? Your precious so-called ‘friends’, or stains on the wall? Do you even care?”

“They are our friends,” Makoto said.

“Gosh… You sure love doing favors for your ‘friends’, huh, Naegi?” Monokuma said. He turned around. “Just like with Maizono… upupupu!”

With that, he was gone. Makoto fell forward and slammed his fists on the ground. Both of his hands were already aching from hitting the metal shutter. The pain at least made him feel alive when the rest of him had gone numb.

Aoi placed a hand on his shoulder. “They’re gonna be okay. It’s just one night. We’ll see them both tomorrow, safe and sound.”

She didn’t sound convinced. Monokuma’s words echoed in his mind. Were they really his friends? Maybe it would be better if they weren’t. The same tragedy befell anyone he called a friend, every time.

Yasuhiro placed a hand on his arm, and together, they helped Makoto to his feet. “You just gotta relax, Naegi-chi,” Yasuhiro said. “While Monokuma was talkin’, I had a vision!”

“A vision?”

“Yep!” He laughed. “I saw Genocider Syo and Togami-chi holding each other real close, n’ Syo was crying!”

“Were they… alive, in this vision?” Aoi asked. “Why else would she be… crying?”

“What?” Yasuhiro gasped. “Why-- why would the spirits show me somethin’ dark like that? I mean, they’re totally alive, right?” he said. No spirits answered. “Yeah?”

“Well… there’s a 30% chance that will happen,” Makoto said. He wasn’t sure if that was optimistic or not. “For now, all we can do is rest.”

The two of them escorted Makoto back to his room and bid him goodnight. He closed the door, shrugged off his hoodie, and fell facedown onto the bed. Visions of all the past victims flashed through his mind, spurred on by the knowledge that there could soon be more.

It wasn’t hopeless, he had to remind himself. Nothing was hopeless. Byakuya and Syo could come to an understanding and make it out unscathed. Or, better- like he ‘promised’ Syo, in a song of sweet lies that Sayaka left behind- they could even confess their feelings. Syo might never kill ever again.

Normally, Makoto would never say that love could blossom in such a miserable place. But then again, with a couple as unorthodox as Syo and Byakuya, this might be the only place in which it could. It was just like Syo had said, once-- with enough pressure, coal could be squeezed into a shining diamond.

But it was so much more likely for coal to burn.

\---

MONOKUMA THEATRE

“Hey, everyone! I’ve decided to have a ‘redemption arc’!”

“That means that I’ll just start crying on screen a lot and then I’ll be a good guy! Everyone will love me, even though no depth will be added to my character and no attempt will be made to account for my past cruel actions!”

“But that’ll be fine! Fans will fight tooth and nail to defend me for being misunderstood! Mile-long analysis essays will be written filling in the gaps that the writers were too lazy to explain!”

“The discourse will be eternal! Fights will break out in the streets! Friendships will be broken! The controversy will be so great that more people will be interested in my story and the media as a whole than ever before! Merchandise sales will skyrocket!”

“Here we go: waaaaaaahhhhh! Boo hoo hoo hoo!”

“Is it working? Do you love me yet? Do you?”

\---

"This is it," Byakuya muttered, standing against the steel shutter, "this is how Naegi, miserable plankton that he is, finally exacts his revenge on me."

"Ohohoho? What's this about Motokoto?" Syo said. She hadn't gotten up from the table. "Don'tcha know it's rude to mention other boys or girls on a first date?" 

"This is NOT a date!" Byakuya snarled. "This might as well be the first stage of my execution. The only question which remains is who shall be my victim."

"Victim? Ooh, what's master gonna do? So many knives in the kitchen... but you could penetrate me with something else!" Syo cackled.

This was a waste of oxygen. All he could do now was wait this out. Makoto could pay in the morning for this. If he were going to be trapped in this cafeteria, he would at least maintain some dignity. He picked up his bowls of food and moved to another table far, far away from Syo's.

He can't say that he didn't expect it when she picked up her own bowls and placed them at the table across from him. "Change of scenery? That dumb old yucky candle just got in the way of me seeing your goooorgeous eyes," Syo mewled.

Maybe if he ignored it, then it would lose interest. Byakuya sighed and reset his silverware. There was only one fork and spoon, not an appropriate one for each course. Then again, all the food he had was the slop in front of him. The aroma was favorable, but so was lying in the snow and sleeping when succumbing to hypothermia. He closed his eyes and took a bite of the curry rice.

Then another.

"Mmmmm.. Byakuya-sama sure was hungry!" Syo said. "Yum yum!"

It was not the worst thing that Byakuya Togami had ever eaten. Despite its crude appearance and lack of refinement, the dish had a melodic flavor profile. The miso soup, while clearly from a box, provided a nice balance to the meal overall. The fact that he hadn't eaten in a few days helped the food go down easier.

It wasn't that he couldn't cook. Of course not. He just had better things to do than sully his hands with peasant work. Spending too much time in the kitchen and cafeteria might give those imbeciles the impression that he was their 'friend' instead of someone whose goals temporarily aligned with theirs.

The slurping across the table made it impossible not to take a morbidly curious glance up. Syo had grabbed her soup bowl and was loudly gulping it down. Before she had even so much as swallowed, she grabbed the plate and began shoveling curry rice into her mouth. It bewildered him how she ate with such a long tongue and razor-sharp teeth- did Touko have those?- but it was oddly mesmerizing.

"Sooooooooooo!" Syo began. "What's upppp?"

"Just because we're trapped in here doesn't mean I have any intention of engaging you in conversation."

"Aren'tcha doin' that already?" Syo chirped.

He ignored the comment. Unfortunately, this only enabled her. "What's up? WHAT is UP? Whazzzuppppp?"

Byakuya stopped her as soon as she started getting into celebrity impressions. "If indulging your need for a discussion is the price I must pay to silence you otherwise, so be it." With that said, he struggled to think of a conversation topic.

For a while, Genocider Syo had just been a name attached to a string of cold cases. Byakuya thought often about 'him'- thinking of Syo as a 'him' at the time- before one day, the truth presented itself, shaking and crying. Now that same person was sitting across from him, licking her hands clean of curry as if they weren't dirtied by the blood of hundreds.

Asking 'why' seemed something foolish that Makoto would do. There was no 'why' for a person like Genocider Syo. Someone might have a 'why' if it were one victim-- revenge, or a crime of passion, or a means to an end. But someone who killed that many could only enjoy watching the life fade from someone's eyes.

"I find it bemusing that the police have never picked up on your tail considering your exuberant personality," Byakuya began.

"Pfffft-- police? The fuzz ain't shit," Syo said. "They don't see me because they aren't looking for me. They're looking for a big man with a meat cleaver and a hockey mask or something."

"However, the police have had suspicions that the true identity of Genocider Syo is a high schooler," he countered. It said as such in the report he shared with Makoto.

"Ooh, someone better call the zoo and tell 'em that pigs can think!" Syo said. "My pointy-point still stands! They've seen me just walking off the crime scene a few times, and they go... 'scuse me little lady, did you see a big scary killer round here? No? Better go home and stay safe!'"

Byakuya drummed his fingers on the table. "It is true that the majority of mass murderers happen to be male."

"Kyahahaha! Even if I was a guy--" Syo seemed lost in this fantasy for a while, probably imagining a lewd scenario with a male version of herself and Byakuya, "-- even then, they wouldn't catch me in a million billion years! Cops are nothin' but backdrops in any crime drama. When's the last time the bad guy just got straight-up arrested? Never!"

The explanation didn't provide much insight. It was a bit presumptuous to assume that the police could get anywhere near Syo in the first place. Byakuya had long known that the police were incompetent-- men soured by corruption who could easily be bought and sold, just the same as politicians. Society was a self-sustaining doll house which existed to contain beings which could only survive in a plastic world. The few real beings, ones like him, were free to move the dolls and rearrange the pieces as they pleased.

"It's not an inaccurate assumption that the police are far below your level of expertise," Byakuya mused. "The reason for this ties into the sense of order enforced by, but which also dominates, the police department. The attempt to apply motives to your erratic behavior based on their preconceived notions has allowed you to get away with your little crime spree for so long."

Syo cupped her chin in her hands. "Ah... you're so dreamy when you call the cops dumbasses, Byakuya-sama," she said. For a moment, he thought she was going to leave it at that- why did he think she was capable of any higher thought?- but then she spoke again. "That's exactly it, though. I wouldn't exist if it weren't for the way society is."

He quirked an eyebrow. "So your 'motive' is simple rebellion?"

"Nope!" she said. "I mean, I literally _wouldn't exist_ if it weren't for society. Kinda like how there wouldn't be rivers running brown with trash if it weren't for us." She leaned to the side a little, her tongue twitching. "S' like I told Makomore earlier. Gloomy's mom and dad were expected to have a child. But, surprise! The pops can't keep it in his pants and there's two moms! And then they're expected to save face and both raise Gloomy as their own. And then Gloomy is expected to be a good little girl, and fit in a good little box, and find a good little husband and live in a good little house--"

As she spoke, her words grew faster and faster. The effect was suffocating, only adding to her point. As Syo spoke, Byakuya couldn't help but think she were describing the 'plastic dollhouse' of society to a T. Everything only worked in a certain way.

"--and pop out another good little baby to suffer in the same good little world. Lockin' Gloomy in the closet was nothing compared to the punishment of making her live like that. Nothing," she finished. A cute little smile crossed her face. "And, da-da-da-daaaa! I was born!"

Byakuya frowned at the insight that Touko was abused. It shouldn't have been surprising, considering her victim complex and laundry list of phobias-- along with her case of Dissociative Identity Disorder, which is, in almost every case, onset by childhood trauma. Still, the way Syo described things made that type of abuse sound almost like a relief compared to having to live as a regular, interchangeable commoner.

And people like Makoto were just happy like that.

"Attempting to blame one's own crimes on a massive social system of interwoven parts as if it were a single, identifiable construct is nothing more than refusing to identify one's personal failings," Byakuya said. This conversation had provided insight, but he was still unimpressed. "The cruelty of society doesn't justify murder."

"Nopesy wopesy! I didn’t say it did," Syo said. “I just said it’s inevitable.”

“It’s inevitable that you, being the way you are, were born?”

“A camel can only carry so much before its back snaps in half! As long as there’s rules that suffocate everyone, there’s gonna be someone like me who won’t play along by those rules.”

Even in a perfect society, a certain level of crime and unemployment would be maintained. Byakuya couldn’t understand the desire to rebel in such a way, but he hadn’t ever been inside the doll house.

Syo hummed. "Everyone acts like killing’s sooooo bad. It's not like I'm doin' anything that this society doesn't do on their own. All those hotties were dead men walkin' already. Yoshimoto had loan sharks after him. Takahashi had been fired from his job. Sageyama was workin' 80 hours a week."

"You mean to say that their deaths were inevitable, if not sped up by this 'society'."

"Ding-ding-ding! Yepperoni!" Syo said. "That's our cute, beautiful little game we call the world! Some people win, and everyone else dies!" As she spoke, she twirled a fork in her fingers, as if this were no consequence to her. "You get a job and there's a hundred unemployed men who don't get it. You own more than one house and there's thousands of homeless people freezing out in the winter cold. You make cuts in your business and former salarymen are jumpin' off the roof-- boing!"

She tossed the fork onto the ground. For some reason, Byakuya couldn't help but wince at its loud clattering. There was no sound in this building- no pipes leaking, no walls settling, no ambient noise from outside- just dead silence. It only served to amplify her words.

"That's why you and me have lots in common already, Byakuya-sama," Syo said. "Just think about how many hot guys- well, and some ugly ones, too- are dead 'cause of Byakuya-sama!"

It wasn't the first time that he'd been accosted because of his family's success. It was envy, plain and simple. Yet Syo not only didn't abide by the rules of the 'system', but she gleefully discarded them. For some reason, hearing this from her left him grinding his teeth. "Comparing the unfortunate byproducts of any successful competitive society to your intentional perversions is nothing short of laughable."

"It's nothin' to be ashamed of! Everyone kills. That's what I mean: society encourages it. Let's face it: if any of those little salarymen could take your job for a day, they would toss you into a meat grinder first chance they got!"

It was a meaningless thought experiment, because it simply wouldn't happen. Togami was synonymous with success, with leadership. If anyone were able to dethrone him, he would deserve the fate that would befall him.

The other potential heirs surely deserved what happened to them.

"I'm well aware. Do you have any more pitiable attempts at lecturing me for my status?" he asked.

She hummed. “Hm… nope! I'm just sayin'. If anyone ever really catches me, it’s only a matter of time until another 'Genocider Syo' pops up somewhere!” For a moment, a frown. “Well, I guess not anymore…”

“Explain what you mean by that.”

“Besides,” Syo said, her voice suddenly quieting, “if me killing dudes is a problem, I don’t have to… kill anymore. When I’m with you, Byakuya-sama, I don’t feel like killing anyone at all.”

“Excuse me?” Byakuya said.

Her cheeks flushed. “It’s the first time I’ve ever felt this way. To me, killing is a default state… it burns within me. You alone can calm my flames.”

He cupped his chin in thought. While he was long aware of Touko and Syo’s perverted longing for him, this was a unique development. “So you think you could repress, in your own description, the very reason for your existence for me?”

“Welllllllll… Because you would be the new reason for my existence, Byakuya-sama!” Syo said, blushing like a girl and not a mass murderer.

Just like that, a new side of Syo had emerged again. First, he had assumed everything she did was based in society and rebellion. Yet, Syo truly was detached from the world, not in such a way where she wanted to change it, but as if she didn’t care. It didn’t apply to her. The promise of money or status left her unphased; she would wear a million-dollar custom-tailored silk dress and complain it hindered her ability to chase her targets.

Without having a motive in society, that could only imply a motive on a more personal level. This was the first hint of it being so. This implied that there was something more to the woman who insisted she was a one-dimensional figure, for whom complex murder processes were as natural as breathing.

“Let’s indulge this fantasy for a moment, purely as a thought experiment,” Byakuya said. “Should you get closer to me- or even enter a ‘relationship’ with me- you would stop killing. Would that not be the same thing as conforming to the oh-so-dreaded society? I would be the ‘good little boyfriend’ and you the ‘good little girlfriend’, who would be expected to settle down and have children of our own. Would that not feel suffocating to you?”

One moment, Syo was all smiles; the next, she chomped down so hard on her own fingernail that it drew blood. “I don’t know. I really don’t,” she admitted. “That’s not the kinda stuff I think about when I feel that way. I just focus on you, Byakuya-sama.”

‘Byakuya-sama’. Even the nickname repulsed him, its over-familiarity and simultaneous formality. Byakuya was used to being praised by his family name, never by his given. Bearing the mantle ‘Togami’ was in itself a success, something he had fought for in desperation.

Yet, should he ever make a great accomplishment- expand his business empire, or capture Genocider Syo- it surely would be his surname that would be again immortalized rather than his given name. His accomplishments bled together with that of his father’s despite his insistence to Makoto that he wasn’t born into success. ‘Togami’ was a blessing and a curse, his own personal dollhouse that came with a plastic throne.

“You’re a serial killer, and I am a Togami, just as the rest of the world are mere swine. Our nature cannot be changed,” he said. “Should I ever lower myself to indulge your fantasies, it would only be a matter of time until your murderous intentions would surface again.”

He couldn’t help a smirk of satisfaction seeing her squirm. While it may be true that her misguided infatuation may have proven a unique variable to manipulate in this environment, it was more of a nuisance than anything-- especially when forced to converse like this.

But just as soon as Byakuya thought he understood her, she burst into laughter again.

“Kyahahaha! Byakuya-sama’s workin’ his squishy pink brains overtime with these thoughts about me--” She hugged herself close, and he swore that he could see the fabric soak with a new layer of sweat. “-- it’s just… so fuckin’ hot! It’s so cute that Byakuya-sama is so sure- always so confident- but he doesn’t get a single thing about me!”

His brow furrowed. “Denial is sophomoric since I simply repeated the nonsensical drivel that you spouted in order to cast light onto how ridiculous your beliefs are.”  

She cackled again. “You just don’t get it!” And then, her face became dead serious. “I’ve never felt this way before. Not about anyone. Some of the hotties, I’d stalk ‘em for days and days before I swept in-- a little tease and denial, y’know?” Despite tossing in her usual lewd joke, her face still remained stoic. “But even if I got to know ‘em better or whatever, it didn’t change how I felt. You’re the first man I don’t wanna kill, and the first man who makes me not want to kill anyone else, and that really means something.”

Their eyes met. Byakuya wasn’t one to break eye contact first and appear submissive, but with Touko- or Syo- it often was a necessity. He would be more likely to win a staring contest with a mirror; for this reason, he took great care to avoid this happening to begin with. Yet, this time, something compelled him to not look immediately away.

There was something different about Syo from Touko-- besides the manic disposition, the omnipresent scissors, the tongue hanging out of the mouth like some type of rabid animal. The way she carried herself. Touko hunched inwards and held herself as if constantly waiting for the world to knock her down. Even when she tried to stand up straight, she had the air of a bowling pin.

It wasn’t that Syo was confident, although she was; she was completely detached from the dogma by which people judged each other to begin with. Someone could question why she had her tongue out-- and someone could also question a shark on why it’s teeth were so sharp. By the time the words left their mouth, it was already too late.

Attempting to detach oneself from the reality of society didn’t magically change one’s position in life. But with Syo, it wasn’t cognitive dissonance; she genuinely operated on a level of being which Byakuya could not, and would not, ever fully understand.

It was just _maddening._

He caught himself and finally turned away, his face turning red from anger-- yes, anger. “Whatever it ‘means’ is hardly my concern.”

Instead of the typical cackle, she giggled like a schoolgirl receiving a Valentine. “Oh, Byakuya-sama-- I love how sure you are, even if you aren’t sure at all!” She swooned, as if this weren’t verbally spitting in his face. “Nobody else would think to bring up a ‘thought experiment’ only to dismiss it right away~”

She was right, which only was all the more annoying. He couldn’t dismiss her as a creature with no intelligence when she’d held her own in this conversation for so long. And yet she was, in no uncertain terms, one of the biggest imbeciles he’d ever met. She was a paradox. Every time he thought he understood her, he was wrong. From the very first time he learned of the “man”, Genocider Syo, he thought he knew something about “him.”

Wrong, wrong, wrong again.

She continued: “What it ‘means’ is that not even I know or care. Conforming and all that really doesn’t matter worth jack to me! I said all that stuff about society ‘cause it was like, intellectually jerking you off or whatever, and I’m always down for what Byakuya-sama wants! But I told you my motive already.” She curled her tongue like a cobra, as if satisfied with herself. “I don’t have a reason to kill. I just kill. And then, ‘cause of you, I don’t have to kill. End of story. There’s no rhetoric to trap me in ‘cause I don’t have any rhetoric.”

“You can’t be proven wrong because you’re too foolish to argue.”

“Ahh, y’got me!” she laughed.

He needed a break. Byakuya stood up and began pacing about the cafeteria. Syo didn’t move, seemingly content to watch him from afar. As far as he could estimate, the night wasn’t even halfway over yet.

Long nights like this left him with so many questions. The only logical reason for the cafeteria to close at night was so the Mastermind had a chance to restock the seemingly endless food supply. If it were simple canned goods and dried foods, that would be one thing; the fresh vegetables and cuts of meat were another. Who was supplying this? Did the Mastermind have a network far beyond what any of them were imagining? Were these shipments intended for Hope’s Peak and the suppliers were unaware of what was happening?

No, no. It was more likely that the Mastermind restocked it on their own. Involving a network of people only stuffed more hands in the proverbial cookie jar. It’s not as if fifteen- well, far fewer now- students were going to eat enough that it would be difficult for one person to restock. But that implied that there were entrances and exits, and the Mastermind didn’t completely seal themselves inside with them.

Speaking of the Mastermind, Byakuya couldn’t help but notice that neither he nor Syo were dead yet for being in an ‘off-limits’ area. This had proven to be an interesting test of how far one could push Monokuma’s rules. Perhaps this method could be used for other means-- but given Monokuma’s odd temperament, it might be better not to push their luck.

These thoughts were simply to pass the time. Back when he thought he would become a Blackened, he was certain that he would end this quickly and return to his life. Now, with his sights set on the Mastermind, he wasn’t as certain.

When he glanced back at Syo, he found that knowing smile on her face, and he hated that he could distinguish that smile from her other ones-- such as her perverse grin, or her satisfied smirk. Maybe she didn’t intend it, but sometimes she just seemed above it all. As if she knew something that nobody else did, especially about this killing game. Watching him observe the steel shutters or check where the wall clock might have been only made her smile wider.

Sick of the sight of her, Byakuya’s pacing took him into the kitchen. Two dirty pots, a cutting board, and several utensils littered the area. He rolled his eyes. Leave it to a commoner to do someone a ‘favor’ with the condition that the recipient take care of an unwanted chore on top of their unwanted gift.

If it meant not having to look at her, so be it. Byakuya took off his coat, hung it up on a rack intended for an apron, and rolled up his sleeves. It had been some time since he lowered himself to menial labor, but the concept wasn’t foreign to him. The kitchen had a typical three compartment sink. He filled one with hot soapy water, one with hot water, and the final with a sanitizer solution. Miraculously, there was an untouched pair of rubber gloves for his use.

Even now, he couldn’t help but think that the gloves would help him avoid leaving fingerprints on a murder weapon. He slipped them on over his uncalloused hands. Then, taking a sponge, he began to work.

Something which he liked about day trading was that it kept his mind busy, until it didn’t. It was only a little while until he could practically do it with his eyes closed. The problem with his doing this type of mundane work wasn’t that it was beneath him because any moron could do it- although that was a factor- it was that it left more time for his mind to wander.

Entertaining those types of hypothetical thoughts could keep his mind sharp and help him stay intuitive, but only to a point. There was a fine line between curiosity and mania; locked in this school, it was a silk thread. What would he do once he got out of here? Fire every imbecile in his conglomerate who left him to rot in here when he could have been doing any far more productive activity than entertaining a bunch of morons who reveal in the meaning of friendship.

However, he wouldn’t do that if one last possibility he had been entertaining proved true: this could be another test. There were several similarities between this killing game and the Togami heir selection process. There were fifteen competitors in his generation, as there were fifteen students locked in this miserable school. The competition was cutthroat. The losers perished.

His reflection stared back at him from the muddled water. The weakest of the brood. The least likely to win. It wasn’t the case any longer.

Byakuya wasn’t sure how long if he had intentionally been tuning Syo out or if she actually managed to sneak up on him; either way, he jumped when she popped up next to him. Damn it. He was getting sloppy. She was the only one of those fools who could still surprise him.

It was somehow a relief.

“Byakuya-sama doing the dishes… how hot! How domestic! But still so rugged… ugh!” Syo shuddered as if reaching climax. “I couldn’t come help you ‘cause I was overwhelmed by it all!”

“I didn’t ask for your help, nor do I need it.”

And yet, sure as always, she took a position next to him, picked up the clean dishes, and began to dry them. He didn’t know at what point he began consciously handing the dishes for her to dry. He tried to avoid thinking about it, lest he have to take note and stop the activity.

Somehow, the time passed by more quickly with her by his side. The reason wasn't necessarily anything that he could tell. It would make sense for him to be on guard around her; she was a serial killer who had verbally expressed that he was her type. The only thing keeping him from becoming another photo in a case file was some thin veneer of promise based on her juvenile infatuation.

So why did he feel like he could finally let his guard down?

It must be the exhaustion. Byakuya typically retired from the library to his dorm each night and slept in order to operate at maximum efficiency. It was already past the Night Time announcement. His tiredness would only get worse.

That was it.

Byakuya handed Syo the last dish, a small plate. The nature of the dish made it nearly unavoidable that their fingers would brush together. Byakuya was used to her odd attempts to grope him, so this wasn't anything special. His hands were covered in rubber gloves and soaking wet. Yet the touch lingered for a moment and some kind of strange warmth infected his fingers and spread up his arm. It surprised him that Touko's- well, Syo's- hands were so small. He was aware of her stature, but he didn't have much reason to consider the size of her hands before.

He wondered idly if Syo began crafting those custom scissors in order to fit her grip. In a world of things mass-produced, Byakuya could appreciate craftsmanship. He had an eye for antiques, unique items which could no longer be found. He had no desire to craft something of his own, but the art fascinated him. It wouldn't be the worst use of his time to watch her work sometime, her movements practiced and methodical, that irritating temperament of hers quieted by concentration.

And then he remembered what she used those scissors for, and then he remembered their fingers were still touching, and then he jerked his hand away and the plate fell to the ground. The incident only lasted a second and yet the warmth had permeated his body and mind like a disease.

If Syo had anything to say about their moment of physical contact, it was eclipsed by the excitement of the plate shattering. "Woah!" she said. "Byakuya-sama, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he snapped. What, he thought, no joke about how she was disappointed that their hands touched with 'protection' on? No quip regarding what the large size of his hands (relative to hers) must imply for other parts of his body? The fact that he even thought of these things disgusted him, and the fact that he was somehow disappointed not to hear those words from her mouth disgusted him more. "Make yourself useful and clean this up for me."

"If that's what you want!" Syo said. She scuttled off to find a broom and dustpan. Byakuya struggled to keep his face neutral. He methodically peeled off his rubber gloves, drained the sink compartments, and put his work materials away. As he stared at his again-bare hands, some sickly part of his mind couldn't help but think that his hand would encapsulate hers if they were to hold them.

Those thoughts were promptly shoved to the back of his mind, where all the other unpleasant thoughts went, and locked away.

\---

It was an odd thought that his nearly dozing off in a cafeteria chair was more dangerous to his life than being locked in the cafeteria with a serial killer was.

The first time it happened, he caught himself. He picked his head up and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. The second time, his vision was beginning to fade when Syo jostled his shoulder. "Byakuya-sama! If you fall asleep, it'll be against the rules!"

He stirred. Visions of the fourteen people he might have, in another life, called ‘siblings’ faded before his eyes. “I thought you were unconcerned with rules and laws.”

“I don’t care! I just don’t want you to get hurt, Byakuya-sama!” Syo said.

He didn't thank her, but he regarded her with a stern glare for touching him and then stood up to resume pacing. She actually saved him- as much as that could constitute 'saving' someone. "It seems as if you couldn't live with yourself should Monokuma steal your prey," he muttered.

"It's not like that... I was just worried for you, Byakuya-sama," she said, her eyes downcast. "And I already told you, didn't I? You make me feel like... I never wanna kill again."

In order to conserve energy, he avoided rolling his eyes. That was based on nothing but infatuation. It was impossible for someone to change their nature. Even commoners who crawled out of the cesspool of their birth and achieved some level of moderate riches still were commoners.

And yet-- when he let his guard down around her earlier, could it have been a physical reaction to believing her words in some regard?

Could Syo still be Syo if she didn't kill? She would still be loud and crude and erratic; an antithesis to Touko. But she wouldn't be Genocider Syo. Fire could be contained, but would it be enough to warm himself by?

"If you wanna risk sleeping, go right ahead," she said, all of a sudden. "I'll keep ya safe! I can fight off any number of Monokumas for you, Byakuya-sama!"

"It was my understanding that you only killed attractive men."

"Eh... they aren't people. It would be more like dismantling 'em. A gourmet chef can still cook a hot dog," she said.

The scrap of insight into her odd world view seemed to fight off some of the drowsiness, if only because it confused him. "Do you consider what you do to be art?"

"Huh? Art?"

"I understand that there's no reason for your killing," he said, as if speaking to a child. "However, what is it that you find satisfying about it? Do you like the act of taking someone's life, crucifying them, and writing in their blood, or do you like the end result? Do you like selecting and hunting down a victim? As a chef puts many steps into a recipe, there are many steps to your... murders."

She pondered this, leaning over the chair that Byakuya just occupied. "Huh... never put too much thought into it. I mean, I said the chef thing and all, but... do you think a wolf ever looks up from a sheep carcass and thinks, 'what the fuck am I doing?'"

"You mean to imply it's instinctive; that's what I meant by there being 'no reason'. What I'm asking is if looking at any of your killings in retrospect provide any insight."

The corner of her mouth twitched. He prepared himself for the 'nope' or lewd joke or cackling, but she began to speak slowly, as if- for once- choosing each word carefully. "I can't even say I 'like' doing it. That doesn't mean I don't like it. I like hot guys and I like my scissors and I like being in control. Everything else is just part of it."

"Despite killing being natural and instinctive for you, you didn't mention it as an element you liked."

She shifted her weight. Her voice was bombastic, not matching the rest of her. “Huh! Huh huh huh… do you ‘like’ not killing? Does it make ya  happy to not kill? Is it somethin’ you think about? Would you be sad if you did kill?”

“For me, to take another’s life will be a means to an end. That is all.” He adjusted his glasses. “But for you, it is the default state of mind. Since you were born as rebellion to oppressive social norms, I might say that one reason for your killing is because the greatest social taboo is to take another life.”

She shrugged. “I like it when you do the thinking for me, Byakuya-sama!” she said. “Besides, killing ‘em just works out. It’s stopped any of 'em from telling the cops on me so far."

"Then another reason for it is silencing them."

The smile slowly returned to her face. It didn't meet her eyes; it felt more like a defense mechanism than anything. "Gosh! You sure do like makin' me think, huh?"

"Conversing will prevent me from falling asleep. And, no, I won't take my chances with your ability to fend off an army of Monokuma before any one of them uses this death trap school to kill me for sleeping."

Instead of following him around like a puppy dog, Syo stayed in place, keeping an eye on him. “If talking’s all Byakuya-sama wants me to do, then chat away!” Her brow crinkled. “But… you sure you wanna talk to me about murders? I’m down, but I didn’t know you were into that kinda stuff so much!”

The memories of spending hours pouring over Syo’s files flooded his mind. He shook them away. “Nobody else has ever spoken to you at length and survived. It’s only natural that I would be curious.”

Before she could comment again, he said: “Anyway. You mentioned specifically that you enjoy attractive men, the scissors you use, and being in control. Is that correct?”

“Sure thing!”

He had a hypothesis. “These men. Do you ever harbor negative feelings toward them?”

“Huh? Negative?”

“Surely you can think of one negative emotion. Anger, or resentment, or disappointment.”

Syo scratched her chin. “It might be… Gloomy had some types of thoughts like that. Me and her share feelings towards people.” She blushed. “Like you!”

“Are there any particular victims- besides me, potentially- that you alone remember having feelings towards? Something which developed that wasn’t just a shadow from Fukawa?”

When she was deep in thought, she had the habit of curling her tongue. If it weren’t grotesque, Byakuya might find it endearing.

“The first one… we were back in our early school days,” Syo said. Her voice came out a little strained, either from struggling to remember or some lingering emotion. “He was movin’ away, and… I saw him there suddenly, as me. He was laughing in my face and said that even if he wasn’t moving, he’d never date me- or, well, Gloomy- in a million years.”

She paused. The look on her face definitely wasn’t regret. Maybe more along the lines of contemplation.

“Even right now, I can’t tell you why I did it. Emotion moved me. I was mad, but so alive. I could feel the blood coursing in my veins. I never stopped feeling that way.”

So she either was unwilling to understand herself or unable to. “The reason I ask is I may have a hypothesis for your behavior.” He lowered his gaze at her. “However, I am not a common police detective attempting to pathologize you. If it isn’t something that interests you, I won’t put it forward to be subject to your ridicule.”

The smile remained on her face, but her eyes diverted. It was a nervous tic, yet eventually her stare met his eyes again, eyes wide with curiosity-- and the fear that, whatever it was he thought, it might be right. “Go on! I want to hear what Byakuya-sama thinks!”

“Very well. This type of killing may be based on the perceived power imbalance between Fukawa, who perceives herself as hideous, and attractive men who Fukawa expects to treat her cruelly. The more attractive the man, the greater the perceived imbalance and the more appealing the target. To control and kill them stems not wholly from desire, but as punishment for an anticipated rejection. To silence them by taking their life not only stops their calling the police, but it stops them from ever rejecting you or choosing another woman again.”

“You’ve got that wrong!”

She was even pointing at him. “The killings don’t involve Gloomy! It’s all me, baby! I’m not just a part of her! I’m my own strong, independent second personality!”

Byakuya crossed his arms. “By that, you mean that my hypothesis cannot hold weight because the power imbalance dynamic won’t work without Fukawa’s self-doubt.”

“Yep! I have no doubts! I love myself!”

“Let me get this straight. You and Fukawa share feelings.”

“Yeppers!”

“Fukawa hates herself, and you hate Fukawa.”

“Woah woah woah, I don’t hate Gloomy, but she sure is a freakin’ drag!”

He saved this tidbit for later. “Regardless, you can’t deny that Fukawa struggles with serious self-doubt that causes her to harbor feelings of anger and resentment toward herself.” When Syo nodded, he continued: “And Fukawa hates you, having gone to great lengths to hide you and thinking of your actions as cruel and uncontrollable.”

“Guess so.” Syo’s eyes flickered again.

“Then the logical conclusion is that Fukawa’s feelings toward you, Syo, are mirrored. You think of yourself as cruel and uncontrollable.” He pushed his glasses further up his nose, using the hand to hide a smirk. “Unlike Fukawa, you’re capable of covering this with a bombastic facade.”

Her hand clutched the ribbon of her sailor uniform, a tic stolen directly from Fukawa. Despite this, Syo’s gasp and (nervous, fading to silent) cackle was all her own. Break!

Byakuya pressed onward. “It’s all piecing together. You were born from Touko’s insecurities, her self-doubts. The stifling expectations of this society led to the creation of a second personality that embraces repressed emotions- hatred, lust, exuberance- and delights in breaking social norms.”

Remembering her saying she didn’t ‘hate’ Fukawa, he added: “This personality acts as a protector for Fukawa. You appear when the strain is too much on her, or when she’s too surprised-- by as much as blood or as little as a sneeze. Finally, the act of killing may have to do with Fukawa’s romantic and sexual repression and the perceived imbalance between her supposedly ugly self and attractive men.”

For once, Syo was mercifully silent. She bit her tongue, hands clasped together, glaring harshly off to the side. It again echoed Fukawa’s body language- attempting to make herself smaller, almost invisible- but something about it was off. Her eyes were wide-open, not half-lidded. Her heavy breathing was audible, not stifled.

“Then you just get everything,” Syo muttered. “A-and… now that the intrigue is broken, you don’t care anymore.”

Their eyes met again. There was something in the way her lashes fluttered, the way her pupils darted about his face but struggled to look directly at him the way one would struggle to leave their hand on a stove burner-- something deeply insecure, something confused and lost. They were the eyes of someone who wasn’t slowly introduced to the world with stories and schoolbooks, but strife and scrutiny. Even a wolf on the hunt had to run faster and faster without so much as a clue why.

If even she was a person, was there a chance for himself as well?

“That’s obviously wrong.”

This time, Syo looked at Byakuya as if she were the one who didn’t understand him at all. “Wh-what?”

He rolled his eyes again. “Tch. This is but one conclusion as compared to the many things that I do not, and likely will never, understand. Even so, the circumstances behind your creation and motives behind your past actions are irrelevant to me,” he said. “So what if you were created based on repression? So what if the reason for your murders may be based in insecurity and pain?”

Byakuya took a breath. He wasn’t sure where he was going with this, or why. Perhaps that made them more similar than he thought. “Listen well. Masking yourself in secrecy and lunacy doesn’t appeal to me more by drawing on my desire to understand. It’s nothing short of pathetic to avoid one’s truth. Should I never have accepted that I was the youngest and weakest Togami child, I could never have planned around my weaknesses in order to defeat the others and become heir.”

Syo placed a hand on her chest as he continued. “You are not a force of nature. You are not a bonfire that is destined to destroy all in its path. You are not even a mere second personality that only exists in order to help Fukawa.” He averted his eyes and pursed his lips. “This undesired time locked together has caused me to see within you the soul of another person. You are a person. A young woman. You are Syo.”

The air was thick with tension. Syo’s hand itched as if reaching for holstered scissors, and a moment of realization stilled her. Both hands fell to her sides. She straightened her back, adjusted her glasses, and looked forward.

Maybe that was what she needed-- someone to attempt to understand. But, if Byakuya’s hypothesis were anywhere near correct, that would only be the spark of creation that would push her in a new direction. The way Fukawa’s doubt created Syo, Syo’s self-understanding would lead to the creation of someone else. Not a splintered third personality, but someone who one day might choose her own name. Someone who would live outside the constraints of society, but also outside the constraints of her own mind.

“Kyahehahahahahaha!”

And then returned the serrated smile, the manic glee. “Byakuya-sama… that was so profound, so hot, so…. Uggghhhh! Mushy!” She shuddered, drool running from the corner of her mouth. “But you still really don’t get anything! You really, really don’t-- Kyahahahahaha!”

He clicked his teeth. “You’re right. I do not.”

What Syo needed wasn’t him. This realization left him feeling free, but at the same time, cold. It felt as if he could write a thesis regarding everything he knew about burning alive, but still would never feel the flames kissing his skin-- as if he still wanted to jump from the top of his plastic castle into the inferno that neared the walls. Whether or not he burned, he would be free.

Even after their lengthy discussion, neither of them could explain with words what happened next. The distance between them closed. Their faces an inch away, it might look to any outside observer as if they were about to kiss. Then, mutually, they turned their faces away and took one another into each other’s arms.

Syo was so close. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled and exhaled. Her nails dug into his back as she held him. The flesh underneath the suit jacket and dress shirt gave way to her jagged nails and could break so much easier under the sharp metal of her scissors. Syo kept squeezing in the embrace, as if trying to get closer to avoid being swept away.

Byakuya’s father had never graced him with so much as a handshake. His mother stole smiles in secret and her hands lingered near his face when tying a ribbon around his neck, but in the end, he was a business transaction. This closeness felt alien, even reckless. He felt unwelcomingly whole.

So long as they were in this school, they had to operate under its constraints. The omnipresent threat of killing or being killed; the roles they played in the eyes of the others. Their paths had converged only to split again in entirely separate directions.

Neither could see forward far enough to know if they would cross again. Neither would try. For now, they enjoyed the time they had together, two splintered pieces of people that, for a moment, fit together.

There were many things that Syo had never done. Today, for the first time, while in Byakuya’s arms, she wept.

\---

Bing bong, bing bong!

“Good morning, everyone! It is now 7 AM, and Night Time is officially over! Time to rise and shine! Get ready to greet another beeeeee-yutiful day!”

Click.  

The screen flickered off. With a groan, the steel shutters began to retract up into the wall. Light from the school’s hallways seeped into the cafeteria along with a rush of cold air. Outward from the cafeteria came the stench of curry and sweat. The shutters finally reached their apex and locked into place with a final, definitive ka-chunk.

Beyond the open doors stood an assortment of people in a line- Makoto, Aoi, Kyouko, and Yasuhiro- all with expressions betraying various levels of concern. Makoto was first to charge in as usual, eyes scanning the cafeteria. He finally breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Byakuya and Syo sitting in a corner table, both sipping a cup of tea.  

“You guys are alive!” Makoto said, then covered his mouth. “I mean… you’re okay!”

“It is just as I told you, Naegi-kun,” Kyouko said-- although her body visibly relaxed as well. “It was the most likely outcome that we would find them both unharmed.”

“Yeah! It’s all okay, like I toldja!” Yasuhiro said, laughing.

Aoi punched him in the arm. “You didn’t say it would be okay! You said some stupid grim prophecy thing that didn’t even come true! Neither of them are crying!”

“Oww…” Yasuhiro rubbed his arm.

“Is this little reunion over, or do you need to sing kumbayah as well?” Byakuya sneered. “I’ve spent enough time in this cafeteria thanks to Naegi’s utter incompetence.”

Makoto scratched his head, smiling sheepishly. “Guys, look, I really am so sorry--”

Syo guffawed. “Sorry, schmorry! Don’tcha worry your little head, Makarel! Me and Byakuya had a hot, steamy night together thanks to you!”

All eyes turned on Byakuya, who simply picked up his cup of tea and rose to his feet. “I will now take my leave. I hope you weren’t expecting me to join your little breakfast meeting just because I was held prisoner here. Our goals may be aligned, but there’s nobody here I wish to spend more time with than necessary.” 

His eyes lingered on Syo for the faintest moment. Then, he turned toward the cafeteria’s exit. “That’s all.”

Once he was gone, Syo chugged the rest of the tea straight from the kettle and jumped to her feet. “Byakuya… Byakuya-sama’s gettin’ away! I’ll give him a five second head start to make the chase more exciting-- fivefourthreetwoone!” She bolted like a horse from its stable. “Kyahahahahahaha!”

With that, the only trace that they had been there was the empty cups on the table and the kettle lying sideways with a dribble of Earl Grey leaking from the top. Makoto picked them up and took them to the kitchen, finding it spotless with an array of clean dishes dry in the dish rack.

As he placed the kettle and cups in the sink, he was struck with a thought: Syo had just referred to Byakuya without an honorific.

He left the kitchen in a daze, having forgotten to take stock of the ingredients. “-- don’t think I’ll ever understand those two,” Aoi was saying, as Makoto returned. She turned to him. “Aren’t they just so… so confusing?”

Makoto just smiled.


End file.
